The body is less a thing than a place. Al location where things happen. Thought, feeling, memory and anticipation filter through it sometimes sticking but mostly passing on, like us in his Great Cathedral with its centuries of building, adaptation, extension and all the thoughts, feelings and prayers that people have had and transmitted here.
Mind and body, church and state are polarities evoked by the life and death of Thomas Becket.
We are all temporary inhabitants of a body, it is our house, instrument and Medium. Through it all come impressions of a wider world and all other bodies in space, palpable, perceivable and imaginable.
[Vist a Canterbury el setembre de 2018. Jo fa temps que concebia la identitat humana com una mena de filferro espantaocells on queden enganxats trossos de plàstic, papers que vénen flotant per l’aire, alguns dels quals s’hi adhereixen d’altres se’n van, i això conforma una forma, una identitat. No provenim d’uns plànols curosament dissenyats i preparats per a un destí sinó que som com una escultura o un androide fet de peces reciclades que a més es van renovant. Tenim la consistència d’un vaixell de Teseu. ]